Post Apocalypsin
by Crystal Lorelei
Summary: After the end of the world, humanity struggles to remain alive. Despite the ongoing wars, a mother can't help but just hope for the best for her son. Mentions of Albert Wesker and other are included main characters.


**AN: First fanfic ^_^ PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW! And how could I forget, thanks _ForgottenDespair_ for beta-reading this, I MEAN IT.**

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><p>"Post Apocalypsin"<p>

_"Night came and fell hard._  
><em>Not like God drawing a blanket over our land<em>  
><em>But like someone snuffing a candle.<em>  
><em>Sudden and total.<em>

_Out—just like that."_

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><p><strong>Year: 2017<strong>

There was a time, when everything seemed alright. When everything glittered at night and glowed at day. She could remember the days, the years, when everything was alright. There was a scene outside; dilapidated buildings, abandoned streets, permanently closed shops.

A scene of the apocalypse, their reality today.

Her watery eyes drifted to the glass pane, reminiscing the days, the past. What could've been, should've been hers.

No matter what sense she put it, it wasn't possible. No matter how she rearrange the facts, the years, the struggles, the epitome of Albert Wesker was infinitely impossible to fathom. By any means, he is no ordinary man.

"But what is ordinary nowadays?" The child asked, peering at his mother with innocent eyes. He adjusted his posture, letting the bean bag beneath him change forms. There was always something to learn about what life used to be back then, when people held phones instead of guns and kids studied instead of trained.

She willed and blinked the tears away.

For the moment, in her child's room, she let herself be fooled. For the moment, this was her reality, and the outside was a far-off future. She basked in the peace it brought her, false it may be.

"Well, it used to be normal when you go to a school filled with thick books, hellish teachers, and annoying classmate instead of a military school filled with government-issued side arms, demonic trainers, and stoic students," she stared once more at the open space. The room had different hues of blue splattered across the walls, giving it a dreamy atmosphere. She used to think settling down would give her the house in the suburbs with a dog that can't be tamed. She got the kid alright, just not the dog.

Animals bring about diseases. Infection was too much of a risk to be taken lightly.

"Really?" Ethan abruptly stood, dropping the blanket that was around his shoulders. Excitement was clear on his youthful face.

A smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "Yes, people have a lot of time to waste then. They would go to places to spend money on, even pay people or machines to entertain them." Before the wrinkles appeared and grey hair grew, she would occupy herself with nights out in bars and arriving home wasted with a guy to spend the night with.

"Why?" A frown settled on his face as he tilted his head. Such a thing was absurd. Why waste nights being wasted when wars were being waged everyday out there? "Were you also like that?" Ethan couldn't imagine his mother, whose laps he would always sit on every night, would do such foolish activities as that. He would always see her during the day in her uniform, gun strapped to her thigh and auburn hair tied into a ponytail.

"No, I was no longer normal in people's dictionary then. I would hang out in firing ranges, spar in the gym, and clean my side arms for pastime." Given, before the Raccoon City incident, she had already been doing those things but after being labeled as a survivor, she completely forgot how to be average. She was denied the gift of normalcy that others took for granted.

"But that's normal now, right?"

"Yes," she nodded, "sadly, it is." She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

He rarely saw her with her hair down, it seems, for tonight, Ethan was seeing a side of hers that she normally hides, a softer one. "Why sadly? Isn't it better when you are prepared for the worst?" Ethan was still confused. What was with it people back then? Didn't they know monsters existed not in their closets but just outside their homes?

"Back then, there was nothing to be prepared for against. People waste time because there was hardly anything to be afraid of out there except the uncertain. Now, monsters that used to be in children's storybooks like you," she smiled and pinched his cheeks, causing Ethan to frown, "came out and hunt people."

"What happened?" He heard stories. Stories of what life used to be, but they were unthinkable, unimaginable, and given the danger people are always in, impossible.

His mother chuckled. "Haven't they told you in school already?" He found no humor in her voice or laugh.

"I want it to come from you." Ethan tried digging in his memories, about what he read, what he heard people were saying. "They said the Redfields were involved, someone named Chris, that he tried stopping some Albert Wesker, along with other people but couldn't. And – this happened." He was about to say, _shit hit the fan_ but he knew his mother wouldn't approve and would end up with having his favorite gun confiscated. He saw her tense and her gaze falter when Chris Redfield and Albert Wesker were mentioned.

"That is true, but it all started with the ambition of a man, a man who has held the highest ambition I had ever known. Albert Wesker wanted to create a new world for a breed of evolved humans." She remembered his eyes, having laid her blue ones, the same as her son's, on them. They were terrifyingly intense. Powerful. But they weren't of a god. They belonged to a demon.

"What did he do?" Ethan's voice was apprehensive. A lot of people do not react well when Albert Wesker was involved or mentioned.

"What did he do?"_A lot, _she thought. "Well, for starters he tried his very best fulfill his goals. He was smart, very smart, but he was also manipulative. It took years and millions of lives. Soon, he got what he wanted. Instead of a perfect world, he got this junk we live in now. Instead of evolved humans, he got monsters that are close to unbeatable. Redfield tried stopping him years ago and no one knew what happened next or where Redfield or the bad guy was after that fiasco in Africa." Ethan felt his mother's arms around her as she scooped him up and brought him to his bed.

Legendary Chris Redfield and Mighty Albert Wesker, a story of a knight against the dark wizard. Like in the storybooks. Yesterday, it was all that mattered. Today, it is mankind's history. Tomorrow, will it fade into a legend? A myth?

"Mom?" He looked up at her while she fluffed the pillow, knowing it was the last question for the night. "Why did," _yawn,_ "Albert Wesker do it?"

_Why did he do it?_ A lot of people asked that in the night when they find themselves reminiscing the old days. "I don't know sweetie."

Ethan's stare, eyes as blue as his mother's with a little green tint in them, was unsettling.

_Promise me, Claire. I beg of you, please!_

She pulled the blankets and placed them gently over him. She saw Martin, his teddy bear, placed in the corner, along with other discarded toys. _My, they grow up so fast_. She pushed his blonde hair aside and placed a kiss on his forehead before switching the lights off, letting the glow in the dark stickers on the ceiling glow. "Goodnight, sweetie."

"Night, mom." She gently closed the door as her son further tucked himself in.

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><p><em>"Now we are waiting.<em>  
><em>Waiting in the dark<em>  
><em>To see if someone<em>  
><em>Will switch on the light.<em>  
><em>We can cower,<em>  
><em>We can fear,<em>  
><em>We can get lost together or<em>  
><em>Get lost alone."<em>

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><p>It was naïve of her to assume everything would be solved by Wesker's death.<p>

But Chris was more naïve.

It ended with him buried six feet under. At least it was a hero's death. At least he's with Jill now. Blissfully happy.

Unlike Claire.

The pressing of keys resonated throughout the kitchen. Claire Redfield did not like doing paperwork in the middle of the night. Or ever. Why would paperwork matter when a person dies in front of you? She took a sip of black coffee. She does not like caffeine but nights like these calls for such beverage.

Soldier by day and mother by night.

Balancing her duties was no easy task. Her laptop has yet to alert her of enemy movements. The world may end or fall apart but people like those Umbrella bastards will never change. No word from the BSAA or Leon means the government has yet to make their move. She couldn't blame them. Everything was falling apart. Cities in ruins and, if not, burning, people dying left, right, above and below. Terror reigned and Claire would be lying if she said it didn't affect her somehow in the very least.

Sherry…she didn't know where Sherry was. Probably with that boyfriend of hers, Jake Muller. Why does it have to be Jake Wesker?

_Wesker. _Claire anticipated the day Ethan asked about his father, his mother, their legacy. Her hands stopped typing and trembled at the thought. What would she say? That his name wasn't Ethan Grey? That she wasn't Claire Althea Grey? That they were both Redfields and they had a job carrying the fight on?

No, Ethan Valentine Redfield isn't ready. Neither is Claire Redfield. But time was running out. She didn't doubt for a second that _he _was still alive. Not after Chris died. Jill's passing just confirmed it further.

The world already took Chris and Jill Redfield from her. She didn't need their son dying on her watch as well. She owed it as much to his parents, as his godmother and aunt. He was loved by all of the people who knew the truth. Fellow survivors. Trusted friends. Rebecca even offered to be their family doctor.

He was a splitting image of his father, to the very tint of green in his eyes. There was no sight of Jill's features in him but awhile ago, Claire swore she saw Jill staring back at her.

She buried her face in her hands in sorrow. Ethan having her brother's face was enough but seeing Jill's eyes the same way she last saw them….It was all too much.

It was raining hard that day. The lit up with each strike of lightning. Jill stood in front of her "_He can't find out Claire. If he does, he'll hunt him down! He'll do worse than what he did to me." _The wind picked up its speed outside.

Claire was afraid then. Jill as well. "_Take him, please! You have to protect him. You can't tell my son the truth, not until he's ready. He can't find out." _

"_He doesn't deserve a life like ours. He won't have a future if we let this be."_

But they were afraid for entirely different reasons. Claire could remember Jill's loving eyes as she laid them on the bundle she was holding then. "_I love you. I'm sorry. This wasn't the life we wanted for you. I'm sorry you have to grow up without us. I'm so sorry."_

"_For everything_." Lightning struck somewhere far away. But the turmoil inside of a grieving wife and mother was greater than any storm. Tears streamed down Jill's cheeks. She choked back a sob.

Jill looked at the younger Redfield. "_Take care of him. Wesker must never discover his existence. He can't find my antibodies, Ethan's genes. Promise me, Claire. I beg of you, please!"_

The Redfields were only one of the many victims out there. Some fared worse. But Claire and her family has been haunted the longest. And she was very sick of it already.

Unfortunately, as old employees of Umbrella continue its legacy; it was Claire's job to finish her brother's.

But protecting Ethan Valentine Redfield was a promise she'll always put first and never break.

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><p><em>"But the truth is:<em>  
><em>I am the light. You are the light.<em>  
><em>We are lit up together.<em>  
><em>We are silhouettes of sunlight<em>  
><em>cast against the night.<em>  
><em>Shining now, let us<em>  
><em>Shining, hold the light,<em>  
><em>Shining, so that our families<em>  
><em>Can find us.<em>  
><em>Shining." <em>

_- _Emmy Laybourne, Monument 14


End file.
